


Burning Bright

by misura



Category: Frank Herbert's Children of Dune (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Experimental Style, F/M, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27452467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: The tigers are compulsory. Everything else is optional.
Relationships: Ghanima Atreides/Leto Atreides II
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2020





	Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/gifts).



The tigers are coming and Leto _trips_ and - ( _no,_ Ghanima thinks)

The tigers are coming and they run for the cave, Leto in front, and Ghanima feels one of them get a hold of her cloak and - ( _no,_ Ghanima thinks)

The tigers are coming and they run for the cave, Ghanima in front, and Leto is half-turned already, away and back and away, not possessed (never possessed) but called, guided by a voice only he hears, because (this much he has told her) it belongs to a man who only ever saw Leto, never Ghanima -

"No," Ghanima says.

"But," Leto says.

(There is no time for arguments, for discussion.)

(There is all the time in the world for arguments, for discussion.)

She knows every argument he can throw at her, all the reasons he could voice; he, in turn, knows all the counter-arguments, all her fears and hopes and dreams, as she knows his, in a never-ending circle that encompasses everything they are and will ever be (and possibly, also every _one_ they are and will ever be: Ghanima the Goddess-Empress, feared by all and loved by none; Leto the Lost, pitied by all and feared by none; their parents, the grandchildren they will never have unless, the children who will be born if).

"I can fight them, Ghani," Leto says, in the silence between one second and the next.

(They should not, strictly speaking, know how to do this yet. Leto will learn in Jacurutu, force-fed spice essence, choking on future after future - but what is time, other than an aspect of reality?)

(Their grandmother will teach Farad'n, has taught Farad'n, may never teach Farad'n, and as her experience is in Ghani, the knowledge is there, like Leto's knowledge of how to pilot a thopter, how to summon a worm - _You will become the whirlwind,_ Father will tell one of them, both of them, neither of them.)

Ghani draws her knife, spending time that will never be regained; futures vanish, while others take shape, and this is what it means: to know the future is to be trapped by it, but to know all futures is -

"Impossible," Leto says, and then he laughs, before she can say, _True, but irrelevant_.

The tigers are closing in, growling. Dangerous and yet not.

He does not ask, _Are you sure?_

She does not reply, _Shut up and get ready._

To know the fact of the tigers does not mean to be safe. To feel, in her blood, the knowledge of how to move, how to dance, where to stab and cut and jump: these do not negate the danger, the risk.

_If we die, we die together._

Two tigers, and an infinite number of them.

Or, to stick with the boring, dreary, _dangerous_ reality: two of them, armed with knives.

Leto bares his teeth, and Ghanima laughs and does not say, _Brother, what big teeth you have._

"Don't be afraid," Leto says, his body tense, but ready, alert. "Fear is the mind-killer."

 _We will face these tigers, and their claws will pass right through our clothes, our skin,_ Ghanima thinks. She's not afraid for herself, but part of her is terrified for Leto. It would be so much worse to lose him than to lose herself, and yet, how could either of them die, knowing who, what they will leave behind?

Leto chuckles again and says, "The best defense," and Ghanima thinks, _yes_ and then she stops thinking, they stop thinking, time stutters, speeds up, slows down as Ghanima raises the knife, and Leto strikes, and the claws, the claws.

They shelter in the cave, after, because it's nearby, because they've both seen it, because it's reasonably well hidden and safe, and Ghanima wakes up, thinking, _where is he, where is Leto_ before she feels his arms around her, and hers around him, to make sure he won't slip away in the night.

Leto doesn't say, _I would never_. (They both know he has, will, would have.)

"I'm sorry," Leto says, which is nice to hear.

"It's all right," Ghanima says, meaning, _now_. (The present is a gift you can never return once it's opened.) "I know why you." _Did, will do, would have done what you didn't, won't do._

"Yes," Leto says. "Still. I forget, sometimes."

Ghanima has never seen Father in her visions. A fair trade: he's never seen her, either. Thus, balance.

With the fate of humanity at stake, Ghanima thinks she might have appreciated a little less balance and a lot more stacking the odds, clearing the path. Saving Alia would have been nice, will be nice (there's less to save every day, every hour, but save Alia too soon and - )

To know the future is to play speed-chess wearing a blindfold.

Leto snorts. "No, it's not. You could use my eyes, Ghani. It wouldn't make any difference."

Correction: to know the future is to play speed-chess wearing a blindfold against your idiot twin brother who is also wearing a blindfold.

Leto snorts again. "Now that's just silly."

"I've seen your wedding costume," Ghanima counters, and Leto's arms tighten around her, as if to reassure himself that she's still here, as if to reassure her that he's still here.

"I've seen _your_ wedding dress. It was lovely. Far too pretty to get blood spilled all over it."

An image flickers into her mind, his mind, both their minds, fabric tearing and ripping, a giggle, a kiss, a softly whispered _'yes, now, please'_.

"You deserve better than him," Leto whispers, in not quite the same voice (but close, close enough to make the future give a bit, to make the path shine a little brighter, a little clearer).

Ghanima kisses him, not on the mouth, and not with tongue, and not like she's been waiting forever to kiss him. (She has. She hasn't. She would. She will. She won't.) "The best."

"Well," Leto says, grinning.

Ghanima snorts.

"Only so long as I have you with me, of course," Leto says.

(It's the 'of course' that does it, because it's a lie and a truth and impossible and possible. Even Father could not keep Mother with him; even Mother was forced to share Father with an empire, and his legend, and his visions, his futures, his legend.)

"We are not our parents," Leto says. "We can do more." He does not say, _we have to_. (They don't. The golden path is an option, a possibility - one choice of many.)

"You've seen him," Ghanima says.

Leto stares into the distance, to where Ghanima cannot follow, will follow, must travel without him.

(Ghanima thinks, _no_ , and Leto shakes his head.)

"You'll see him too," Leto says. "Now."

"Grandmother," Ghanima says.

"Will fend for herself well enough." Leto shrugs, not adding _the same cannot be said for Aunt Alia_ but this is understood, has always been understood, will always be understood.

"We'll save her," Ghanima says, defiant.

"Saviors take many shapes and forms," Leto says, evasive. "First, I think we had best look to saving ourselves. And possibly the rest of humanity while we're at it."

Ghanima smirks. "Possibly."

"Well, I mean, why not?" Leto rises, pulling her up with him, towards the light and the desert and the road to Jacurutu. "Might as well. Shall we go, then?"

Ghanima sees the journey, hears a voice, saying, _I hold your water in my cup_ , sees herself step sideways, pushing Leto out of the way, and then -

"Ready when you are," she says.

(Always, and never, and today, and tomorrow, and yesterday.)


End file.
